


You Read Your Emily Dickinson (And I My Robert Frost)

by fairestandfoulest



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/F, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Oral Sex, harley is a doctor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 04:25:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6141406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairestandfoulest/pseuds/fairestandfoulest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harley hates reading.</p>
<p>But she loves girls.</p>
<p>Especially pretty girls with fiery red hair and mossy green eyes and long, long legs. Like, longer than Harley’s lifespan long. And said girl happened to own a bookstore. Which was why Harley is here, surrounded by books and plants.</p>
<p>Harley hates reading.</p>
<p>(Or, Harley hates books but she loves Pamela and that's all that matters)</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Read Your Emily Dickinson (And I My Robert Frost)

**Author's Note:**

> Helooooooooo. So, this was originally supposed to be for femslash February, but I didn't finish in time. But props for effort, right? This is my first femslash ever and my first Harley/Ivy ever, but I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Title from The Dangling Conversation by Simon and Garfunkel
> 
> [My Tumblr](bisexualqueenofhell.tumblr.com)

Harley _hates_ reading.

But she _loves_ girls.

Especially pretty girls with fiery red hair and mossy green eyes and long, _long_ legs. Like, longer than Harley’s lifespan long. And said girl happened to own a bookstore. Which was why Harley is here, surrounded by books and plants.

Harley _hates_ reading.

The bell tingled over the door as Harley waltzed in, feeling that familiar flare of nerves. Pamela made Harley _nervous_ and butterflies- no, _wasps_ \- made nests in her stomach.

Sunlight filtered through the windows, catching Pamela’s hair so it lit up like a lion’s mane made of flames. Her freckles stood out starkly and Harley yearned for her to look up, to just _see_ Harley. But she continued to pour over her book, fingers stroking the leaves of a potted plant next to her. Harley loved her fingers; they were long and looked calloused, like she’d spent days digging though the Earth with the sun on her back. Harley wondered what they’d feel like in her own hands and on her and, well, _in_ her.

She hadn’t felt this way about someone since Mister J. And they all know how _that_ ended. So, sue her for being scared.

Harley walked through the aisles of books, not really paying attention to their titles. Plants popped out of nowhere, vibrant flowers flaunting their stuff next to the books. Harley found her favorite spot, where there was a small gap between two books, allowing Harley to peer at Pamela.

_Today’s the day ya talk to her, Quinzel,_ Harley told herself firmly. Squaring her shoulders, Harley marched out of the bookshelves and over to the cash register. Once there, Harley mentally gave herself a pat on the back. So far so good.

Now, what the hell was she supposed to say?

“Can I help you?” Pamela asked and Harley nearly melted at the smooth, buttery voice of the redhead.

“Um, yes,” Harley said. Her fingers came up to press on the table. Pamela quirked an eyebrow, straightening up. She was barely smaller than Harley, even if her legs took up most of her body.

“You come in here a lot,” Pamela said and Harley ducked her head, her blond pigtails doing nothing to hide her new blush. “And I’ve yet to get a name from you.”

“Oh, jeez,” Harley said, fully flustered now. “I swear, my ma raised me better than this.” Harley thrust her hand out, wiggling her fingers. “Dr. Harleen Frances Quinzel, at ya’ service.” Pamela took Harley’s hand and Harley shivered at the feeling of the callouses scarping against her soft skin.

“A doctor,” Pamela mused, eyeing Harley. Not in a flirtatious way, Harley realized, more in a you’re-interesting-and-I’m-not-sure-how-to-handle-you way. Which, Harley was pretty used to, in all honesty. “You don’t seem like the type.” Harley shrugged.

“I get that a lot. I psychoanalyze the baddies.” Pamela cocked her head.

“Interesting,” she said, her fingers touching the flower near her sweetly. “I imagine you’re looking for a book? Even if you’ve never bought any.” Harley winced.

“Yeah…” Harley trailed off, smiling sheepishly. “I’m not a huge reader. In fact, it’s the bane of my existence. But I’m willing to give it a good ole’ Quinzel try! The problem is I don’t really know what to buy.” Pamela’s lips curled into a smirk and Harley could die happily.

“I can help with that.” Pamela moved away and Harley followed like a lost puppy. “You want something engaging, something that will keep your mind entertained.” Harley nodded eagerly, watching Pamela pull a book off a shelf and hold it out to Harley. “Fahrenheit 451.”

Harley took the book gingerly, blinking down at the frayed spine and yellow pages. “Whassit about?” Harley asked curiously. Pamela laughed, shaking her head. Her hair flared out around her and Harley’s fingers twitched with the need to tangle in the tendrils.

“You’ll have to find out yourself, Dr. Quinzel,” Pamela said. She nodded at the book. “That one’s on the house. I’m just glad to get another person reading.” With that, she turned and went back behind the counter, grabbing a spray bottle and starting to make her way to all her plants. She made no other acknowledgment of Harley and Harley didn’t push her.

Harley gripped the book tightly and then spun away. She had some reading to do.

** -X- **

Harley barged into the bookshop, rattling the bell and doorframe. Pamela looked up in surprise and then smirked when she saw Harley.

“Dr. Quinzel,” she said in lieu of greeting and Harley marched up to her, slamming the book on the counter.

“I did not sign up to read a sad book,” Harley said with a frown. Pamela mimicked Harley’s expression.

“Sad?” she asked and Harley could hear the clear confusion in her voice. Harley threw her hands up and started pacing.

“People _died._ And he had to leave ev’rything! How is that not _sad_?”

“Well, he attained knowledge,” Pamela said. She reached up and tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear, under the flower crown of daisies she wore. The other side of her was buzzed, tattoos of poison ivy spread on it. The ivy raced down her neck and over her shoulder to disappear into the collar of her dress. Harley was _not_ distracted. Seriously. “And freedom.”

“Freedom?” Harley balked. “He’s a fugitive. And they’ll kill him if they see him! That’s not being _free_ , that’s being a _refugee.”_

“But he no longer was prisoner to a society that told him wanting more was wrong,” Pamela said. She braced her hands on the desk and leaned forward and Harley did the same. “Isn’t that what freedom is? Being held down by something terrible and getting away from it, even if it means leaving everything behind?”

Harley’s jaw clicked shut as images, memories, flashed in her mind. Mister J hadn’t been a nice man and Harley had almost been lost; he’d almost taken her apart completely, even as she loved him. And then Selina waltzed in with her anger and fists and had made sure Mister J stayed away from Harley.

That was when Harley met Selina’s Bruce, the playboy billionaire who’d given Harley money and refuge. He’d put her up and away from Mister J, the man she couldn’t even speak the full name of. Harley liked Bruce well enough, even if he had too much money for his own good. And he collected little boys, but Selina _swears_ there’s nothing going on there and if there is one thing Harley believes in, it’s Selina.

“I get what you mean, puddin’,” Harley said, the nickname rolling off her tongue easily. Pamela nodded, looking at Harley sharply. Harley felt like maybe Pamela _got_ it, in some peculiar, otherworldly way.

“But maybe you want a more forever type of happily ever after.” Pamela slinked away and Harley admired her green strapless, floor-length maxi dress. When she walked, Harley could see Pamela’s bare feet and the leaf anklet that she always wore. It was endearing really, how Pamela appeared to hate shoes. “Pride and Prejudice, arguably Jane Austen’s finest work.”

“You think so?” Harley asked, walking over to take it from Pamela. She carefully opened the book, thumbing the dog-eared corners.

“I’m more of a fan of Emma,” Pamela said. “But the plot of Pride and Prejudice is strong and moving.”

“End happy?” Harley asked hopefully.

“The happiest,” Pamela promised. Harley grinned, reaching for her wallet in the back pocket of her shorts.

“How much do I owe ya?” Pamela waved her hand.

“This one’s on me, too. You didn’t fully enjoy Fahrenheit 451; it’d be sacrilege to charge you.” Harley gripped the book closer to her chest, beaming.

“Keep this up and I’ll end up thinkin’ they’re gifts or somethin’.” Pamela snorted.

“If I keep it up, they just might become gifts.”

** -X- **

“P and P was much more enjoyable,” Harley said when she walked into Pamela’s bookstore. She stopped abruptly when she saw the two people talking to Pamela. “Silly? Bruce Goose? What they hell are you two doin’ here?”

“I didn’t know you liked books,” Selina said, ignoring Harley. Bruce was meeting Pamela’s cold glare and Harley frowned, not liking the weird tension in the room.

“I don’t,” Harley said. “But I’m trying.”

“That’s good,” Selina said with a smooth smile, hand reaching up to lay on and tap Bruce’s chest. “Isn’t it, Bruce?” Bruce tore his eyes away from Pamela and smiled kindly at Harley. It always disturbed her when he did that because this was public Bruce, all smiles and flirtation and exuberance. Real Bruce- private Bruce- was much quieter and smarter, someone Harley would not want to cross. But he liked to keep the public an arm’s length away, not that Harley could blame him. He’d been especially careful once he started to date Selina and they hadn’t even broken the news of the engagement yet.

Harley’s heart skipped a beat in happiness just thinking about her _friends’_ happiness. She owed them so much, after what they did for her with Mister J.

“It’s wonderful,” Bruce said in his smoky voice. Harley decided that Selina and him should have voice babies because his voice sounded like sex and Selina’s sounded like whiskey which, come on, was just as good as sex.

“I didn’t realize your friends were so _rich,”_ Pamela said, spitting the word out like it was poison. Harley winced because she understood. When she first met Selina and Bruce, she was certain she’d hate them, both unfairly rich. Not that Harley wasn’t what with her being a doctor and everything, but those two took rich to a whole other level.

“Yeah,” Harley said. “But I’m rich too! I mean, you know I’m a doctor, don’t ya Isley? And, besides, the shit these two have been through, I think they deserve a little bit of cashola.” Harley shoved away the fear that Pamela or Selina or even _Bruce_ would ask her to choose sides. They wouldn’t do that. They just _wouldn’t._

Pamela’s lips thinned into a firm line and that’s when Harley noticed what was different about the freckle faced girl. She had purple eyeliner smudged on her eyelid and under her bottom lashes, some mascara making said lashes look longer. Pink lip-gloss thinly coated her lips and Harley felt like she was under their trance, swaying towards them to see if they felt as soft as they looked.

“Puddin’, you’re wearing _makeup_ ,” Harley said, dazed.

“So it appears,” Pamela snapped. Harley recoiled, a little, no, a _lot_ hurt. Pamela’s face cleared and she lifted her hand and then dropped it with a heavy thump onto the counter. “Jesus, Harley, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to get upset. I promise, it’s not at you.”

“It’s alright,” Harley said quietly. Pamela chewed on her lip and Selina looked at her with narrowed eyes. It almost made Harley smile. Selina was always too much of a lioness, ready to destroy for her cubs.

Bruce reached forward and grabbed Selina’s wrist, tugging her away from him. “I want to look at some of the books,” Bruce said, glancing at Harley who knew that he was really trying to give her some alone time with Pamela. It was sort of sweet. “Do you have any Vonnegut? One of my son’s loves his work, has a hard time coming by old copies of them.”

Pamela pointed at the bookshelf, eyes on Harley. Harley kept her eyes away from Pamela’s looking at the Venus flytrap on the counter. It was a new addition, but Pamela had been wanted one for ages, apparently.

“It wasn’t fair of me to get mad at you,” Pamela said and Harley shrugged, still avoiding her eyes.

“It’s fine,” Harley said and she meant it. Pamela hadn’t even been that harsh. She just didn’t like people mad at her.

“No, it’s not,” Pamela said firmly. Harley heard her move around the counter, coming to grab Harley’s chin and lifting it. Pamela looked at her with soft, sweet eyes and Harley realized just how gone she really was. “No one is allowed to be shitty to you Harley. You don’t deserve it.” Harley’s breath caught at Pamela’s gentle words, so unlike Mister J’s.

Pamela moved her hand to cup Harley’s cheek and Harley leaned into it. “I think I’ve got a bit of a thing for you,” Harley whispered and Pamela laughed, low and silky.

“Good thing I’ve got a bit of a thing for you, too,” Pamela said and she stepped closer. They weren’t touching except for Pamela’s hand, but Harley wished they were pressed together in every way possible.

“Can I kiss ya?” Harley asked, so eager. Pamela pretended to think and Harley giggled, hand coming up to grab at Pamela’s wrist.

“I don’t know, can you?” Pamela teased and Harley groaned, sidling so they were a little closer.

“How are we ever gonna date when you’re such an English nerd?” Harley squeaked and Pamela opened her mouth to laugh, but Harley leaned forward to shut her up with a long kiss. She grabbed the lapels of Pamela’s jacket, green of course, and brought herself close so they were against each other. Despite their position, the kiss was surprisingly chaste and sweet, yet it felt like breathing. Like Harley needed it. Except she didn’t. She _wanted_ it. And that made it much better.

** -X- **

“Puddin’, who’s your favorite author?” Harley asked when they were curled up on the couch in the bookstore’s backroom. Books in precarious stacks surrounded them and Harley clutched her mug of coffee in one hand, turning the page of The Bell Jar with her other.

Pamela hummed, taking a drink of her green tea. A computer rested in her lap and Harley was fairly certain Pamela was ordering more plants. Which, appeared to be an addiction.

Harley reached down to pat at Baby’s head. Her Pitbull was the only good thing that came from Mister J and she was glad that Pamela had taken so quickly to the dog. His tongue lolled out and he stretched longer, going back to his nap.

“I have to say Emily Dickinson,” Pamela said, scrolling on her laptop. “There’s just something about her writing… I get chills every time.”

Harley thought long and hard. “I don’t think I’ve ever read anything of hers.” Pamela sighed, stroking a hand down Harley’s calf.

“You’d like her, I think. She writes beautifully.” Harley hummed, stretching her legs out over Pamela’s lap and across her laptop. Pamela rolled her eyes, but kept massaging Harley’s legs.

“I like Jane Austen’s novels,” Harley said. “I don’t know if she’s my _favorite_ author.” Pamela laughed and Baby stood up, shaking himself. Then, he hopped onto the couch, right onto Harley’s legs and Pamela’s lap. Pamela grunted loudly at the new weight and Harley couldn’t help the giggles that she let out.

“Why did I agree to let this dog in here?” Pamela asked, giving a pointed look to Harley.

“Because I asked,” Harley said cutely, leaning forward so she could steal a kiss. Pamela smiled against Harley’s war, chapped lips. “And because Baby’s nice.”

“Maybe,” Pamela said and Harley giggled again. She couldn’t seem to _stop_ giggling around Pamela. She was just so… _giddy_ because Pamela was sort-of-kinda hers and she was sort-of-kinda Pamela’s.

“Don’t tell me I’ll have to persuade ya,” Harley said, fluttering her eyelashes. Pamela hummed and took a kiss for herself.

“Soon,” she promised, pulling away from Harley. Harley whined, trying to follow, but Pamela kept a firm hand on her shoulder. “I have to go lock up. Come to my place for dinner afterwards?” Harley had never hated Selina and Bruce more.

“Silly and Bruce Goose are hosting their gala to announce their engagement,” Harley said with a groan, flopping back. She crossed her arms and pouted. “I can’t skip.” Pamela sighed.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.” Harley watched Pamela leave the backroom and then looked at Baby, who whined when looking at her.

“I can’t believe Bruce Wayne just pussyblocked me.”

** -X- **

“I think you might be a Robert Frost girl,” Pamela said and Harley looked up from Wuthering Heights, trying to pretend that Heathcliff doesn’t remind her of Mister J.

“I think I’m a you girl,” Harley said flirtatiously, smiling at Pamela. Pamela rolled her eyes.

“Cute,” Pamela said. “But I’m serious. You’d like his poems. They’re amazing.”

“You have any of them here?” Harley asked and Pamela nodded. She moved so she straddled Harley on the couch, leaning forward so she could kiss her deeply.

“I do,” Pamela said once she’d pulled away. Harley didn’t fight the flush that covered her skin, hands reaching up to curl her fingers around Pamela’s shirt. “But I have a few other things I want to do before I grab it for you.” She kissed Harley again, this time making her way over her jaw and down her neck. Harley was never more glad for being a doctor and wearing a nice, button down dress to work.

Pamela kissed down the middle of her chest, popping out the buttons as she went. Harley thanked whatever god was watching for helping her to decide to wear a matching set of flowery bra and panties. She’d bought them specifically for Pamela to take off and Harley practically squirmed in delight at Pamela’s wet, open-mouthed kisses.

Pamela kissed along her panty line and then grabbed it with her teeth, slowly pulling it off and leaving Harley’s head spinning. It had been so long since someone had loved her body. Mister J had never been that type of man and Harley hadn’t felt that up to finding someone who would please her after him. But Pamela was her now. Sweet, gorgeous Pamela who was pulling Harley’s thighs open and kissing the inside of them.

“Is this okay, Harleen?” Pamela asked and normally Harley would bite the head off of anyone who dared to use her full name, but it just sounded so _right_ coming from Pamela’s lips.

“You bet it is,” Harley breathed out, hand coming up to tangle in Pamela’s hair. Pamela laughed lowly, fondly, and kissed Harley just above where she wanted that mouth.

Pamela moved down to breathe right over Harley’s clit, smirking when Harley started to shiver. God, Pamela had barely even done anything and Harley felt like she could come any second now. And then Pamela put her lips on Harley’s clit and just sucked, _hard,_ and Harley felt electricity race up her spine to short-circuit her brain.

Pamela’s tongue was doing wonders for Harley. It was spinning her head and making every hair on her body stand up. And she was relentless, not letting up so either of them could properly breathe. Her hands holding open Harley’s thighs disappeared, allowing said thighs to subconsciously clench around Pamela’s head. Harley discovered why her hands disappeared when she felt a finger against her slit, just pressing and not going in. and Harley _lost_ it.

She came so hard she saw stars and Pamela’s name fell like a prayer. She whined and sobbed and yelled and Harley was glad that the bookstore’s walls were so thick. It wouldn’t have gone well with the old couple who owned the apothecary next to Pamela’s store to hear Harley orgasming.

When Harley finally felt strong enough, she fluttered her eyes open, smiling at Pamela resting her head on Harley’s stomach and stroking her thigh.

“How ‘bout I help you, puddin’?” Harley asked with a yawn and Pamela twisted her head up to smile at the blonde.

“I sort of took care of it already,” Pamela said, lifting her left hand and wiggling her shiny fingers. Harley frowned.

“You took all the fun outta my part,” Harley complained, watching Pamela’s smile grow.

“There’s always later,” Pamela said serenely. “Are you still coming for dinner?”

“Of course,” Harley said, giggling suddenly. “Even if you have ruined your appetite. I mean honestly, Pamela, dessert _before_ dinner? A shame.”

Pamela groaned, burying her face in the softness of Harley’s belly. “You’re terrible.”

“But you love me,” Harley said and then froze because maybe it was too early. She knew she loved Pamela, but Pamela didn’t have to love her back.

But Pamela just smiled, so gentle. “I do,” she said softly and Harley beamed.

“Even if I still kinda hate reading?”

“Even then, Harley.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it!
> 
> [My Tumblr](bisexualqueenofhell.tumblr.com)


End file.
